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Rumi’s magnum opus, the Masnavi, is often read as a profound exploration of sacred love. That, of course, is true. But it is much more than that. Wisdom lurks in the crevices of the poem, and verses that we may otherwise read without second thought carry the seeds of life lessons.

Take the following translated lines as an example:

Unchain yourself, my son, escape its hold!

How long will you remain a slave of gold?

You’ve tried to fit inside a jug the sea—

It only has a day’s capacity:

A greedy eye is never satisfied,

Shells only when content grow pearls inside

Collectively, they warn against the dangers of greed and avarice. But it is the way that Rumi teaches us that sets him apart from other poets.

He begins in the first two lines by building a rapport with the reader. By addressing the reader as “my son,” Rumi personalises the relationship, transforming the reader into a fellow spiritual wayfarer. This close affinity means that Rumi can speak openly and honestly with us, without needing to beat around the bush: our love of gold and silver, of our material possessions, has shackled us in invisible chains. We are unwitting slaves.

The second step, embodied in the third and fourth lines, is demonstrating the spiritual disease through vivid imagery. It is not enough to tell us the problem; Rumi needs to show us. The world is an endless sea of existence, and we are but fragile, miniscule jugs in comparison. Trying to amass unbridled wealth would be akin to filling our jug with the sea; it is both impossible and futile, for it is far more than we could ever amass or make use of.

The final step in Rumi’s mode of teaching is presenting the solution through striking imagery. But understanding the final two lines requires knowledge of ancient beliefs. It is here where the wisdom lurks.

One belief is that pearls were formed from raindrops that fell in certain months. These drops would hurtle down towards the sea, and those that found their way inside an oyster would transform into pearls. But there is a catch: this transformation only occurs if the shell clamps shut, if it is content with the raindrops that nest within it. If it continues to remain open to guzzle more rain drops — in other words, if it is gripped with greed — then the rain drops nestled in its bosom will never transform into pearls.

What can we learn from this? In this digital age our eyes often stray, peering around at everybody other than us, observing everything that we don’t own. Rarely do we sit and ponder the blessings in our lives, or the hidden struggles in the lives of others. We do not appreciate the blessing of health until illness looms over us and our loved ones. We take for granted our loved ones, our security, the roof above over our heads, and only pause to reflect upon them if — or when — they are gone.

The pearls growing in the shell are a perfect illustration of what arises from contentment, from being satisfied with what one possesses. If we imitate the shell then we will be able to better appreciate and enjoy all that we have in life, without the need to compare ourselves to anyone else. We can shut the eye of greed that Rumi warns us against.

This is not a call to voluntary poverty, or to abandon the pursuit of material wealth. It is a call to change our perspective. If we adopt contentment as a worldview, as the lens through which we both look out onto the world and into ourselves, then we will see pearls in places that we did not see before.

• Ali Hammoud is a PhD candidate at Western Sydney University. He is broadly interested in Shīʿīsm and Islamicate intellectual history. More of his writings can be found on his Substack page